I still remember it like it was yesterday.

I still remember it like it was yesterday.

I jumped up in the middle of the night - sweating and panting in a double bed in Savannah, GA. This was April 2021.

It wasn’t the first time that this had happened, but this instance felt a little different.

My wife and two sons were asleep in the other bed and adjacent “pack-and-play” completely unaware that Daddy was just across the room in a full panic.

In the middle of a pandemic, on the tail of our generation’s civil uprising, fully loaded with a newborn, a three year old with a recent autism diagnosis, two emerging businesses, a marriage hanging on by a thread and a mountain of debt that felt like it was caving in on me.

I sat there - in silence and in shock - snatched out of my sleep and rapidly slipping into a vortex of doom.

How did I get here? How do I get us out of this? Am I a failure? Will it ever get better?

Almost as quickly as I slipped, suddenly, I began to recall the many conversations that I’d had in previous months. Conversations with men - my peers - who felt overwhelmed by life and had no hobbies or healthy outlets. This theme was consistent in every conversation that I was having. Fathers who give themselves to every one except themself. Husbands who were going through the motions and feeling disconnected from their bride. Men who when asked the simple question: “What do you like to do?” - had no answer.

There were so many others just like me. I could sense that I wasn’t alone.

It was in that moment that I found myself on the receiving end of an influx of information. A name. An audience. I began to envision a space - a space where men who worked so hard to live righteously, take care of their families, and lead with character and conviction could come to rest and recharge.

Nearly four years later, I’ve finally surrendered to the call that I felt (and still kinda feel) unworthy of carrying out.

I’ve seen too many men (and women) in their 40’s die without notice.

I’ve witnessed too many marriages falter and fizzle.

There are too many of us pouring out from empty vessels - self included.

So, today, I’m just being a steward.

Stewarding the opportunity for a few good men that carry a lot, to lighten their load.

My life is far from perfect and I imagine that the same is true for each of you.

I don’t have the answers.

I don’t know the way.

I don’t know where it will be or how much it will cost (yet).

I do know what I saw and I have a duty to at least extend an invitation.

This is an invitation to take care of ourselves because we deserve it and so do those that depend on us.

This is also “invitation only” so please keep it to yourself. 😎

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